


Call Upon the Sea

by twilighteve



Series: DT17 Magic AU [1]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Donald Duck Has Magic, Family, Gen, clan duck and mcduck are basically all magic tbh, donald has ocean related magic, donald is a badass, i just need to know more about the rest of the family to assign what magic goes to who lol, the ocean is somewhat sentient
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:13:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24473338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilighteve/pseuds/twilighteve
Summary: The ocean responded to his calls and there was a push and pull, push and pull that settled at the back of his mind, always there no matter how far away he went from the shore.The ocean calls and loves Donald. He loves it back.
Series: DT17 Magic AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1777444
Comments: 21
Kudos: 201





	Call Upon the Sea

He didn’t remember when he first heard the call of the sea, but he knew he was little then.

He was playing around at the pier with Della, with Gladstone and Fethry walking on the sand underneath the wooden boards. The pier was built low enough and Gladstone was tall enough to be able to knock the boards from down under if he stood on his tiptoes. The sea had been ebbing but was starting to rise, and he could see rocks big and small littering the damp sand.

Della jumped from the pier to the damp sand, and he followed. At that age, they revolve around each other and followed one another, like twin planets caught in each other’s orbits dancing around themselves eternally. Della was the more adventurous one, and he ran after her relentlessly. He was the one more careful and tactful, like Momma told them to be, and Della looked at him for cues whether to jump up and down in excitement or behaving to avoid adults’ ire.

They ran around laughing, kicking wet sand and splashing water, and their cousins soon joined in. Not long after, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that big waves would come soon, and he warned the others of it. Fethry listened to him pretty much immediately and began whining to get back, and Gladstone, being the oldest and feeling responsible of the bunch, told him and Della to get to shore soon as he walked the fussing Fethry back to the pier.

Della… well, it wasn’t like Della never listened to him, but Della was headstrong even at that age. She wanted to play at the beach, so that was what she was going to do.

“Come on, Don!” Della whined when he made it clear that they had to get back to shore. “The tide’s still low. We can play a bit longer.”

“No, it’s not going to be low for long!” he insisted. “Let’s just go back, come on – “

“We have time,” Della bargained with a pout and splashed his face. Annoyance burst in his chest, and suddenly a big wave rose and loomed over them.

From far away, he could hear Fethry squawking in fear and Gladstone shrieking his and Della’s name in horror. It was drowned out by the wave pouncing on him and Della both, and they only had time to reach and hugged each other in a futile attempt to stay safe.

The seawater drenched them, but they weren’t harmed in any way. It felt more like plunging into a pool than being swallowed by angry wave. The seawater caressed his feathers and kissed his cheek, lifting him and Della both and carried them to shore. It receded and left them on the sand, with Della coughing out seawater and him blinking in a mix of surprise and confusion. She stared at him with shock, and it was immediately clear to him that she was a lot more shaken than he was.

Gladstone and Fethry ran to them, and Fethry threw himself at him. He assured the younger duck that he was fine, pouted at Gladstone’s remark that it was good that his bad luck didn’t pounce on him then, and grabbed Della’s hand to ground her to the world. The four of them agreed to get back home, then.

He chanced a look at the sea as he walked away. Sunlight twinkled on the surface of the water, like it was winking at him. He ignored the feeling in his chest that made him want to dive back into the blue and turned away.

* * *

It didn’t take long for him to realize that he felt most at home at sea.

He didn’t go to the sea a lot, but he enjoyed it when he was there. The breeze caressed him feathers and the waves welcomed him home. The water lapped at his feet and he would look down, smiling, when he found yet another pretty shell washed up right in front of him. He’d take it and admire it, but he’d always return it to the sand. He wasn’t the best Junior Woodchuck, but he’d spent enough time among the Woodchucks to know that one of the rules when exploring was to not take anything and leave nothing behind.

Della wasn’t as enthusiastic with the sea as he was.

“It’s just a lot of water, Don,” she’d said one day.

He frowned, not even trying to hide that the simple words hurt. “That _just a lot of water_ is mostly unexplored. You said you like exploring.”

“Yeah, but it’s just. There.” Della shrugged. “It’s not going anywhere.”

“Plenty of time to explore, then.”

“Hm. I guess.” Della kicked a rock and watched it sink into sand once more. “I guess I’m just bored.”

And that was just plain unfathomable to him, because the sea was abundant with things to discover and daring adventures, just like what Della liked. It gave and it took, and it had so many cool things living and not in it ready to great the explorers when they gathered enough courage to dive deeper.

At that point, he had yet to understand that not everyone loved, and was loved, by the sea just as he had. But he could respect Della’s feelings, and he let her choose what to play. At the end of the day, building a sand castle as ridiculously as possible was just as good as letting the sea lazily lap at his feet, as if trying to communicate with him but was content to let him relax.

* * *

When his parents died and he and Della were carted off to Scrooge’s care, the first thing he noticed was that the lack of the closeness to sea was somehow just as hurtful as the loss of his loved ones. Scrooge was surprisingly attentive and a good parent figure, and Della being there with him helped soften the blow, and music became a part of his life that begged attention nearly as much as the ocean was, but there was still a hollow in his chest that refused to patch itself up no matter how much he tried.

He missed the sea nearly as much as he missed his parents, and in the end he basically begged Scrooge to let him go to the beach. The older duck complied, and the presence of the sea greeting him like an old friend soothed the hurt in his heart until calm begin to fold in. The hollow was still there, but instead of a gaping void gnawing him from the inside out, it was simply a place where coral began to grow and life started to take over. It was there; there was no hiding that. But it gave way to other things to grow and nurture, and he let out a sigh of relief.

Seawater lapped at his feet, and it felt like coming home.

He didn’t know how long, exactly, he stayed at the beach, but when Scrooge called him to get back to the mansion the sun had dipped into the horizon. If Scrooge noticed how much lighter he felt after spending time at shore, he didn’t say anything. All he knew was that Scrooge regularly took him to the sea, after that.

* * *

He and Della went with Scrooge on one of his adventures when they were teenagers, and they somehow ended up escaping landslide on the side of a rocky mountain by hang gliders. He didn’t really like it, finding the controls hard to grapple with, the wind too hard to predict and ride through, and the risk of falling too great.

Della, on the other hand, loved it.

She glided with the grace of a seagull riding the ocean wind, rising higher with each gust and dipping lower with each small, nearly imperceptible press; she rode the wind as if she had done it for years, as if she was born to do it. She landed gracefully – a complete contrast to himself who sort of just flopped to the sand with all the daintiness of soggy paper plane – and ran around the sand, hair frizzy and stiff from the wind. Her smile was as wide as a ripe banana.

“Can we do that again?” she asked. Her eyes were twinkling like the stars, and it dawned on him that he hadn’t seen her that happy since their parents were gone.

Scrooge must have realized the same, because he gave a weak smile and answered, “Sure, sure, but not now, okay, Lass? I’m not the biggest fan of doing that.” He paused with a thought, knowing how Della’s face fell and opting to ignore it in lieu of thinking. “But we can do that again sometime! If you’d like, I can get you a weekly paragliding class with the best paragliders in the world!”

Della’s face lit up again. She looked up at the sky with an achingly familiar longing, and it suddenly struck him, how the sky was for Della what the sea was for him.

* * *

He ended up taking boating lessons, and he soon realized that he wasn’t as unlucky at sea.

He tripped on his own feet and fell into his own face on the regular. Losing pennies, pencils and pens, and other small knick-knacks was his everyday life. Getting splashed by mud by oncoming vehicles and nearly getting run over happened basically every other week. It was a very clear contrast to Gladstone, whose hair was always perfect, who kept finding twenty dollars just casually lying on the ground, who stood right next to him when mud splashed but never getting a speck of dirt on him. Misfortune followed him just as fortune shadowed Gladstone; never bad enough to harm him but always enough to make everything just a tad more annoying, more tiring.

The moment he was at sea, it was as if his misfortune vanished.

He didn’t turn lucky. That would have been eerie. But he was wonderfully normal. He didn’t lose things, he didn’t fall even when the boat rocked and tipped, and getting splashed by seawater wasn’t an unlucky accident, that was just how water behaved. Asking to be dry 24/7 at sea was like asking for snow at Sahara Desert.

As Della’s paragliding lesson branched out to plane-flying lessons, his own branched out to several naval areas. Boating was practically second nature, managing a small ship slowly became more natural, maintaining naval vessels became ridiculously easy, and at one point manning a submarine became awkward but welcome. Swimming and diving were as easy as breathing and walking – even easier, at times, since he wouldn’t trip and fall in the water – and once more he was struck by how it felt like he was most at home when the sea was all around him. As his misfortune at sea lessened, his skill grew, and before he knew it Scrooge had entrusted him to chart their course at sea just as he trusted Della to chart their flight when they were looking for more treasure to find.

At one point, he decided to join the Navy. Scrooge was reluctant to let him go, but he was never one to force him or Della to do as he said – he usually just went ahead and expected them to follow, and when it was them who was in the lead he struggled to let them take charge. Della was adamant on keeping him out of the Navy, but he was just as stubborn as her and when he said he was going, _he was going_. They exchanged stiff goodbyes, but time eventually soothed the jagged edges into longing, and soon they were calling each other and exchanging letters and swapping stories once more. It was hard to stay mad when they were practically inseparable at heart, and losing one meant losing your other half.

* * *

He came back home with nightmares haunting his steps and phantom screams in his ears and a connection to the sea he never realized he had before. The ocean responded to his calls and there was a push and pull, push and pull that settled at the back of his mind, always there no matter how far away he went from the shore.

Della asked him for details, but he refused. He kept the experience tightly under proverbial lock and key and let it sink into the bottom of the seemingly bottomless ocean and never spoke of it. Della prodded him again and again but he refused to budge – you can try to move the sea but it would never bow to your will. At one point, Della gave up and stopped prodding, and gently asked him if he wanted to go to an adventure, just the two of them, in a small island where she knew Scrooge had planned to get a buried treasure.

“We’ll be _just_ one step ahead,” she said with a mischievous wink. “He’ll be so mad we got that treasure before him. It’ll be _hilarious_.”

He didn’t need a lot of time to think of it. A grin overtook his beak and he nodded enthusiastically. “Okay.”

* * *

Scrooge wasn’t mad, per se, but he was definitely sulking (and denying that he was sulking) when he saw the twins getting back bringing the very treasure he’d planned on getting. Della gave her signature shit-eating grin and slung her arm around Scrooge’s shoulder.

“Cheer up, Uncle Scrooge! You don’t have to wade through sand and muddy waters for this!” she said cheerily.

“Yeah, we did all the work for you,” he added. “But I expect to have half the amount of the treasure in my bank account by next week, thank you!”

“Then you very well didn’t do the work _for me_ , did you?” Scrooge bit back scathingly. For his part, that just made him cackle; as much as Scrooge loved treasures he knew the old zillionaire still loved the twins more. Though maybe just a smidgen more. Scrooge still loved treasures so, so very much.

“Oh come on, you still get to display this in the mansion,” Della said with the same shit-eating grin. “Besides, I won’t be able to join trips for a while, so I wanted to bring back something.”

“What? Why won’t you be able to join trips?” Scrooge asked. For once, the ire gave way to confusion.

“Oh right, I was actually getting the treasure as a buffer before I’m telling you two,” Della muttered, mostly to herself but loud enough for the other two to hear. She looked at both of them in the eyes and smiled, nervously jittering hands forced still for a moment as her demeanor changed into something akin of hopeful nervousness. “I’m pregnant. Surprise!”

His jaw dropped, as did Scrooge’s. The treasure was all but forgotten in the ensuing mayhem, but all three were equally excited for what was coming.

* * *

The eggs lay quietly in front of him, and he couldn’t help the smile that overtook his face. The sea rose up when he took a walk on the shore in response to the giddiness in his chest, but if Scrooge or Della noticed neither of them said anything.

(Part of him wondered – _longed_ – to tell them that the sea responded to his call, as he would respond to it. Part of him told him to stay silent and leave them unaware, too afraid of how they’d respond. All part of him wondered if he was a coward for it.)

Scrooge pulled him aside, once, to show him a blueprint of a rocketship. “It’s going to be the best gift,” the uncle said. “I’ll – _we’ll_ – give them the stars, all of them.”

He blinked at the blueprint, then. “They’re babies, Uncle Scrooge. And Dell has to raise them.”

“For later, then!” Scrooge said. “But this is what I’ll give them.”

“I’m not sure, Uncle Scrooge,” he said, tasting unease in his tongue. “Is it safe?”

“We’ll make sure it is.”

But the project progressed too fast, and suddenly the Spear was there, and all he knew was that it was untested and probably unsafe and _it was just sitting there_. He’d confronted Uncle Scrooge then, _it’s untested, it’s unsafe, too risky, pull out, pull out,_ pull out.

But of course Scrooge argued, because when did he ever listen to him when it came to safety and adventure? Scrooge knew best, Scrooge could and would survive everything thrown in his way. If Scrooge said it was safe then it was safe, it was fine, _where is your sense of adventure?_

It wasn’t even about adventure. It was about safety and family and them being together, and with babies on the way they couldn’t just recklessly dive headfirst into whatever they thought was interesting. He asked, he begged, _pull out. Safety first; the babies have to be the priority_.

Scrooge conceded.

Della found out and decided to throw caution to the wind and took the Spear for a joyride, only to be caught in a cosmic storm.

She didn’t come back.

Anger and hurt of the loss he had to bear turned and stabbed themselves to the nearest target available: Scrooge. The equilibrium he’d had for years, the constant push and pull of twin planets caught in each other’s orbit, the other half of his bleeding, beating heart that had been around since forever ago, gone in an instant. Suddenly he was an unanchored boat drifting aimlessly in stormy sea, and he blamed Scrooge because he couldn’t, wouldn’t, blame himself.

(He wondered if he was a coward for that. He wondered if he was something worse, to shift the blame to someone else when he could have done so much more.)

He took the three eggs and bought a houseboat with the money from an account Scrooge made for him. It was the last time he took something from Scrooge, and from then on out he was on his own.

* * *

(Sometimes, when he closed his eyes at night, too weary to do anything else after a long day of grueling work, he thought of how the sea called him and how he thought the sky was for Della what the sea was for him. He wondered if Della felt the same call he felt whenever he looked to the expanse of blue when she looked up at the endless sky, if she longed to wrap herself in wind and trust it to catch her when she fell.

Sometimes, he wondered if he’d ever give in to the call and disappear much like her, leaving behind three kids who depended on him, an uncle hellbent on pretending he didn’t exist, distant friends he held dear but could never meet, and unsatisfactory jobs he could never keep. Sometimes, he wondered who’d even care.

Sometimes, the thoughts left the taste of bitter anger and denial in his mouth and he’d turn over and forced his eyes to close and go to sleep. Sometimes he’d feel longing and wonder who’d miss him, and that scared him more than the thought of dying ever could.)

* * *

He chose the sea because it felt like home, because his ill luck lessened when he was at the domain of the blue, because if anything else, it was the one thing he knew he was good at. He chose the sea because he knew it was the safest option both for him and for the babies.

Huey hatched first, then Dewey, then, after an uncomfortably long time, Louie. He color-coded them just as Della did, but ditched the names she picked for something less… her. Something that wouldn’t get them picked on, if other kids decided to be mean.

(Something that wouldn’t make him tear up whenever he heard them because the sound of it made him thought of the Spear of Selene and how Della eventually disappeared into the ether.)

All three ended up being the joy of his life, the shimmering beacon of hope and happiness when things got so hard not even the rocking of the calming sea could soothe him. The sea helped him take care of the kids; rocking the boat just so to help them sleep and softening their fall when they inevitably fell. All three were soon expert swimmers, and not because the sea helped them or because he taught them. It was sort of a given, with where they lived and how curious and adventurous the boys were. He still had them wear lifejackets, just in case.

There was so much of Della in the boys. As much as he loved them, there were times when he saw them smile and heard them laugh and thought of a sister he lost to the stars.

(He failed to see himself in them, and Uncle Scrooge would one day stare at him with fondness in his eyes while he shook his head, pointing at the boys and telling him that they were as much _him_ as they were _her_.)

* * *

He knew the sea called to him and the sky called to Della. He didn’t realize the kids would also have _something_ with them.

Honestly, why was he even surprised anymore? He was of clan Duck and McDuck. Nothing _ordinary_ was going to come out of his family.

He wasn’t sure if they were _called_ , the same way he was – or, if she was, the way Della was. But they had something, and that was pretty much obvious when they hit about six years old or so. He could feel them like the push and pull of the sea at the back of his mind, weak powers reaching out to his more experienced call, soft little things that he would have dismissed if he hadn’t realized they had them.

Dewey was the most obvious one. His was the most flitting, but when it was present, it made itself known. It gave him a buzz when he felt intense emotion, and every now and then he’d think there was a white-blue spark at the tips of the boy’s fingers. They were always too quick to pinpoint, but he was fairly sure they were there.

With it being the most obvious, Dewey’s little jumps of electricity was the first to made itself known. It happened one day when the boys came home from school, with Dewey pouting and crossing his arms and refusing to answer any question.

“Come on, Dewey,” he’d coax the boy. “Is something wrong? Talk to me.”

Dewey looked away. “It’s fine.”

“If it is you won’t be sulking right here instead of hanging out with your brothers,” he pointed out. Said brothers were pretending to be watching TV while glancing awkwardly at them – the downside of the houseboat was that it was small and there wasn’t much space for more private conversations. “Come on. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to talk about it!” Dewey snapped.

 _Oh boy,_ he thought just as the boy started to yell. _Oh_ fuck _my life_ , he thought again when sparks of blue-white jumped from Dewey’s fingers and zapped around wildly and caused the lamps to flicker and the TV’s audio to blare out white noise. A buzz made all his feathers stand on end, and his surprise made him squawk while the other two kids yelped.

For his part, it was painfully clear that the electric discharge surprised Dewey just as it had him and the other kids. Then surprise turned into panic, then into fright, and suddenly the boy was frozen where he stood, glowing white-blue with sparking electricity that jumped off his skin, eyes aglow and beak slightly apart. Even from his distance he could see electricity dancing in between Dewey’s teeth.

“Dewey,” he called cautiously, raising his voice above the white noise and the wheezing neon lights that dimmed and brightened like a pulse. “Dewey, can you hear me?”

Dewey turned slowly, like he was afraid to move. If his blood hadn’t run cold, the way fear made itself known in the glowing blank white of Dewey’s eyes certainly did the job.

“…Uncle?” Dewey’s voice was soft, so soft, and he was suddenly reminded of the small baby that almost gave him a heart attack with how he ran amok before he could even properly crawl. “Uncle Donald, what’s happening?”

He moved forward and grabbed Dewey’s hands against his better judgement. Electricity surged through him and almost flung him back, but here at sea he was right in his element, and the ocean surged in his veins and strengthened his stance. He let the crackling buzz ran through him, and after a while it was bearable. Water was a conductor and sea was water, and he let the electricity pass through. “It’s okay, Dewey. I’m here.”

“I – I don’t know what’s going on,” Dewey stammered. “I just, I don’t… Uncle Donald, please help me.”

He wrapped his arms around Dewey’s small form, and the young duck immediately responded in kind. He was trembling against his frame, as if he could shelter him from oncoming storm. The buzz was still running through them.

“It’s okay, Dewey. Don’t be scared,” he coaxed.

“People’s been telling me to not get close to them all day,” Dewey said, muffled against his shirt. He sounded strangled, like he was fighting not to let himself be heard but knowing he needed to let it out anyway. “They say they keep getting zapped. I didn’t know. I was just mad, I thought they were being mean. I didn’t know I’d zap _you_.”

“Oh, Dewey,” he sighed. “I’m okay, see? I’m still here. I’m holding you. I’m perfectly fine.” Mostly, anyway. He hoped. At the very least, he knew the sea would help him recover.

“But I zapped you,” Dewey muttered quietly. “I don’t wanna hurt you. I don’t wanna hurt anyone. I didn’t do anything, and suddenly I’m a freak who zaps everyone.”

“You’re not a freak,” he chastised. “This is just new. You’re surprised. It happens.” He unraveled the hug to cup Dewey’s face in his hands. “You’re a good person, Dewey. You don’t want to hurt people. You’re not hurting me. It’s okay.”

“But what if it’s not?” The white in Dewey’s eyes seemed to glow stronger, bluish and harsh. His fear was still so palpable it hurt.

“Then we’ll figure it out,” he promised. “We always do.”

With that, the glow in Dewey’s eyes dimmed until his eyes turned normal. The surge of electricity receded, and the lights stopped flickering. The TV’s static gave way to the sounds of people buying ottomans before abruptly cutting off. The rest of the buzzing electricity from Dewey disappeared.

His finger kept twitching. But he knew he’d have been worse off if the sea didn’t help him, so he let that be and wondered if the twitching would ever be gone. His musings were cut short when Huey and Louie tackled him and Dewey, chattering up a storm about _are you okay, what just happened, did you make the lights flicker that was_ so _cool, no but seriously are you two okay_ one after another until the words blurred together into a buzz that he couldn’t make a head or tail of.

Dewey, for his part, blinked at them. “…you’re not mad at me for screwing up the houseboat?” he glanced at both him and the kids, unsure.

“No, I’m not,” he assured his nephew. “You were scared and you couldn’t control the electricity. That’s alright.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah!” he answered with a smile. “We’ll fix the houseboat, and we’ll find a way for you to control that superpower of yours. That way we can make sure things don’t go haywire again, ‘kay?”

Dewey’s relief was obvious in his face. “’kay. Thanks, Uncle Donald.”

“Now let’s get us some dinner, then you three can rest up,” he said. “Especially Dewey. I’m sure you’re tired.”

The twitching _did_ go away, after two weeks or so. It still appeared now and then, but for the most part it was gone.

* * *

With Dewey sparking and buzzing electricity, he knew immediately it was only a matter of time before the other two began showing signs of something otherworldly in their veins. He was proven right when Huey caught fire in the most literal sense of the word.

His mind flashed to the times he took hold of Huey’s hand and thought to himself, the boy sure was warm. But hey, people are like that sometimes, right? Well, his hindsight was always clearer than foresight and he suppressed the urge to slap himself in the forehead.

Flames wreathed and blanketed Huey from head to toe, but he didn’t seem burned. He’d screamed in surprise, but once he realized he was alright, the screams died and he just stared blankly at his fiery hands.

He was still breathing really fast, though. It was probably best to get to him and calm him down before the fire spread. They were in the woods doing some camping so Huey could get his Junior Woodchuck badges, and forest fire _was not_ in the list of things they’d hope to happen.

“Huey?” he called softly. “You okay there, buddy?”

“Is this like Dewey and his lightning?” Huey asked instead of answering.

“Probably,” he replied as he glanced at the other two of the triplets. Dewey had opened his mouth to chatter excitedly, but Louie, bless his attention to social cues and tact, placed a hand on Dewey’s shoulder and shook his head, letting their uncle work on calming Huey first.

“Is this why it’s always been easy to light a campfire?” Huey asked, sounding dreamy.

He blinked at the question. That wasn’t something he expected. “Uh.” Dewey and Louie stared at him and Huey, watching for any reaction. Well, Louie did. Dewey just looked impatient, mostly.

The dreamy tone Huey had used vanished, giving way to indignation. “Have I been wasting my time with friction and sticks when I can just _make_ wood _catch fire_?!”

The surprised guffaw broke through his beaks before he could stop it. He smothered it before it could truly bloom, but it had been heard, and Huey glared at him with all the indignation of a cat whose tail had accidentally been stepped on. He gulped and tried to find words, but all that came out was, “Um.”

Dewey just grinned at his spot. He had given up trying to be patient. “I know, right? This has so many uses! We both have superpowers, woohoo!”

The word _superpower_ seemed to trip Huey into surprise again, and this time, panic grew in his eyes. “I can do fire. _I can do fire_.”

He blinked at the young duck. “Yes, I think the fact that you’re on fire makes it obvious…?”

Huey shot him a look. “Uncle Donald, I have no idea how to _not be on fire_.”

 _Oh_. He stared at Huey, studying him. Flames wreathed around him like a blanket, but he was obviously not pained, and his clothes and hat were okay. Hesitantly, he reached out. When he felt the feathers around his fingers began to singe with heat, he pulled back.

“You know you’re safe, right?” he asked slowly. “It’s okay. You don’t need fire to fend off anything.”

“I know that,” Huey said. His voice was beginning to tinge with hysteria. “But the fire just. Won’t go away.”

“What set it off?” Louie asked. “No judgement here, but I don’t think you can turn it off unless you know for sure what caused it in the first place.”

“ _I don’t know!_ ” Huey yelled. “I’ve been convincing myself it’s okay! I’m safe! I know these woods, I should be afraid, but the fire keeps – “ He stopped and looked away, gulping. Any other time his eyes might shimmer with unshed tears, but the fire evaporated the water in an instant.

“Sometimes my brain gets all stupid and annoying,” Dewey said slowly. “I tell myself it’s okay but my brain is still convinced it’s not. Is it like that?” His fingers sparked with electricity as his eyes flashed blue-white for a split second.

“Uh, sort of? Maybe?” Huey gulped and wrung his hands together. “I don’t know. This is – this is a lot.”

It clicked, then, because he’d felt the same before, if only flittingly. “Is it scary?” he asked gently. “To suddenly burst flames everywhere. It’s kind of freaky, isn’t it? You’re not sure what triggers it, and that means you don’t know how to keep it under control.”

Huey choked on what might have been a sob. He sniffed, nodded jerkily, and wrung his hands again. The flames flared brightly before settling, but didn’t go out.

“Then we find out about it,” he said. “It’s okay. We live at sea anyway. We can take a risk to explore this. You’ll be okay.”

“Yeah, and we can do that together,” Dewey added. “I still zap you and Louie from time to time, too. We can deal with it together.”

Louie tilted his head in thought. “I… could bring drinks and snacks?” At his brothers’ questioning look, he shrugged. “I mean. I don’t have anything, but at least I can try to help.”

“Is it safe?” Huey turned his gaze to him.

He shrugged. “You two can use the lifeboat while Louie and I watch over from the houseboat. We’ll figure it out.” He levelled a smile at Huey. “We’ll figure it out together, okay?”

Huey sniffed and nodded. Slowly, the fire dimmed and grew weaker until it was finally a small lick at the palm of the boy’s hand. He palmed it, effectively snuffing it out. Dewey immediately slung his arms around his frame while Louie leaned on him.

“So, Huey,” he began, “what badges are you gonna get today?”

* * *

The thing was, it was obvious. It was hard not to notice how Louie ended up feeling isolated from his brothers, being the only one out of three to not exhibit any obvious supernormal abilities. He ducked out of view when lightning crackled between Dewey’s knuckles or when warmth seeped through Huey’s clothes until light flitted about his fingers. He used his phone much more, and he didn’t chat as much with the other two. He still did, enough to not be immediately obvious, but not as much as before.

Ending up under Uncle Scrooge’s care helped things out a bit. Uncle Scrooge didn’t like magic and it was so much easier to coax the boys to keep their abilities a secret rather than letting it out, and the absence of controlled fire and lightning eased Louie into talking, but the distance was still present. There was only so much he could do to bridge the gap when he was mostly busy repairing the houseboat, and he was at a loss of what he should do.

And then Magica happened, and he had to prioritize. Gotta deal with the old witch to ensure the safety of his family first. There would be no gap to bridge if the people he wanted to bridge didn’t even exist.

Pulling the kids away from the danger while fully expecting them to show up at the center of it was painful, but sadly necessary. They were short on manpower and he knew the kids were smart, they’d know how to get there safe. He was proven right when they showed up at Uncle Scrooge’s office, and he couldn’t help eyeing Louie’s golden khopesh he strapped to his back. Didn’t the triplets throw it to sea earlier?

The kids went into the money bin while he turned to deal with the shadows. When he was finished brawling Magica’s underlings, he dashed into the money bin, and his feet was locked in place. The voice he had recently technologically gained buzzed uncomfortably in his throat as his feathers stood on end – from sudden burst of electricity the Modulator emitted or from fear, he didn’t know for sure.

The kids were scattered, each held by liquid shadows or purple lights that locked them in place. At the center of the money bin, Uncle Scrooge’s gold coins had created a throne, and above it Magica de Spell hovered in midair. One of her hands held a silver coin, while the other held her staff, which she held in front of her as she maintained her spells. Her shadow had liquefied under her, leaking to the feet of the throne and gathered and rose in shape of a familiar girl – _Lena?_ – who seemed to be pleading at Magica. And, in front of Magica, held airborne by the clutches of glowing purple hand, was Louie. The spell held him tightly and kept a finger over his beak, keeping him from speaking. He struggled and glared hotly at Magica. The golden khopesh he had tugged along lay untouched on the bed of gold below.

Magica beckoned, and the purple hand moved to hold Louie closer to her. “My, what’s this?” she mused. He couldn’t see her eyes from behind, but he could imagine them sparking with hungry interest. “A fledgling _gold-touched child_. Well, well, well, Scrooge! I can’t believe you’ve been hiding such interesting things from me!” She moved to stare at the dime in her hand.

It struck him, then, that his uncle was trapped within the dime. He had to get there, had to help, had to do something, but he wasn’t sure what, and he wasn’t sure the sea could help him here. Slowly, carefully, he descended the stairs to reach the gold below, trying to get the jump on Magica. She didn’t see him, of course, but her sentient shadow did. Her eyes strayed at him for a split second, then returned to Magica.

“Please, Aunt Magica,” she pleaded again, pretending he didn’t exist. “Let them go. You have the dime and you’ve got Scrooge in your hands, literally. Why do you still do this?”

“Oh shush, Lena,” Magica said. “Your mushy _friendship magic_ – “ oh boy, he could hear the eye roll even without seeing it “ – may have given you some power to break out from being my shadow, but you’re not here to babble about my plan. Besides, it’s changed now.”

That seemed to have given Lena some pause. “It has?”

“Yes, well, at first I thought enacting my revenge on Scrooge and his family and taking control over the city is enough,” she whirled excitedly at Louie, “but that’s before I learned the existence of a gold-touched child! The potential! The raw power I could get with the right ritual! Forget Scrooge’s dime, with this child’s blood I can get as much power as I want!”

His feet touched the cold floor of gold. He tiptoed carefully, trying as hard as he could to keep from making any noise. For the most part he was successful, for the rest Magica’s monologuing kept her from noticing him, even though the rest of the kids had noticed him by now. He held a finger to his beak to signal them to stay silent, and Huey, bless him, gave him another distraction.

“What kind of nonsense are you babbling?” he asked. “Louie’s just a kid, same as any of us! Give him back!”

“Yeah, and give Uncle Scrooge back, too!” Dewey added.

“Just a kid?” Magica repeated, and she zoomed to Huey. The boy struggled against the liquid shadows that bound him to get more distance between him and the witch.

“ _Just a kid_?” Magica said again as she circled Huey.

He ducked behind a chest to hide and peeked out to see. Magica was still circling Huey. She looked almost comically insulted.

“What do you mean, _just a kid_?” Magica bit. “You of all people should know better. I can _feel_ your heat, little duck. You’re flame-born, just as your brother in blue is lightning-kissed, just as your other brother is gold-touched. You have magic coursing in your veins, and you have the gall to say you and your brothers are _just kids_?”

Huey blinked at her, as Dewey did. Louie had stopped struggling, and from his peripheral, he could see Webby stopped shaking the glowing purple bars of the cage Magica placed her in. He wondered how she could tell. With a frown, he dug deep and let the sea sweep at him, enveloping him with cool surety and safety and power.

Sure enough, he could feel the magic in the bin flaring wildly. Magica’s was the strongest, reeking of shadows, gloom, and something burnt and rotten. Huey’s was the warmth of campfire, braving cold nights and battling it with light and heat. Dewey’s was a jumping, sparking buzz, flitting and blitzing and zapping restlessly. Lena’s was shadows like Magica’s but brighter somehow, and linked to Webby. Webby herself didn’t really have anything, not really, but the woven bracelet on her wrist shone love and affection like sunshine on summer day. Louie’s was… cold and glittering, shining, something that screamed _precious_. Like gemstones, like gold.

As soon as he reached out to feel the magic around him, Magica whipped around and locked her sight at him. Purple glow rushed at him and caught him by the ankle, and pulled him up until he was dangling upside down.

“Oh, so we have a newcomer now,” Magica purred. “Welcome, little sea-called. I thought I saw you hovering around here. We were just talking about how the kid in green is special.”

“I’ll show you special!” he yelled as he struggled against the spell that held him. To his frustration, Magica just laughed. It made his blood boil, and he could feel the sea’s push and pull, push and pull strengthening around the bin.

“Oh, no, believe me, the kid is so much more special than you’d think,” Magica grinned and floated back to Louie. “You see, he’s a fledging gold-touched. He hasn’t yet come to his own like Scrooge has. All he has is _potential_.” She pinched Louie’s cheek lightly. “And that’s exactly what makes him _valuable_. If all he has is _potential_ , then there’s no limit. That means there is no limit on what sort of power I could gather.” She giggled giddily. “Just imagine! The potential of a gold-touched who was born alongside a flame-born and a lightning kissed, borne from a sky-called and protected by a sea-called! His blood will spill, and Scrooge will watch, and I will grow to be the strongest mage in the world!”

“You’re crazy if you think we’ll let you kill our brother just like that!” Dewey spat.

“Well, that’s easy,” Magica said flippantly, “I’m just going to kill all of you so I don’t need to deal with you. I’m sure there are rituals to make sure I’ll end up having your fire and lightning powers.”

Magica’s words made him see red, and the push and pull of the sea turned into a roar as a wave rose high enough to slap the side of the money bin. He could feel the ocean rise within him, around him, ready to pounce. He could feel something start within his throat – the Modulator was fried from the rising magic, that was for sure. He coughed it out of his throat and spat it gracelessly down.

Apparently, Magica’s words also made Louie angry, because instead of water gold coins rose around them.

Shock stilled the sea’s anger and he stared at his nephew, eyes wide. Louie was glaring hotly at Magica, gritting his teeth and growling softly. His dark irises were gone, overtaken by shining yellow-gold speckled with emerald green that enveloped his eyes fully, and his hood billowed in unseen wind. Gold was pulled to his side like giant metal whips, and they rushed to Magica.

Magica’s binding spells broke in an instant as the witch pulled her magic to shield herself. He fell gracelessly and turned to look around, just in time to see Louie crash to the ground. He dashed to him immediately, as did Huey, Dewey, and Webby. Lena hovered around them, oozing uncertainty.

He gathered Louie into his arms. “Louie? Louie, talk to me.”

The youngest of the triplets didn’t answer. His eyes were still fully gold, almost like discs. He slumped bonelessly into his hold, staring at seemingly nothing.

“Louie, please,” Huey whispered. “Please tell us you’re okay.”

Louie was still silent, but he reached out with both hands toward Magica. The golden whips were still lashing out. He closed his fists and _pulled_ , and Magica screamed an enraged _no_.

He looked up to see what made her scream. Dewey saw it before he did, and the boy dashed out, hands outstretched, and caught the dime Uncle Scrooge was trapped in, babbling apologies at it. Magica saw it and fired a spell at him, and Dewey lit up with crackling blue-white that shone brightly and smashed through Magica’s spell. Moonlight shone through the cloud of shadows as Magica’s control of it stuttered, and the beam hit the dime _just so_ and released Uncle Scrooge from his prison. He crowed victoriously and held up his cane to Magica.

She screamed in anger, seeing Uncle Scrooge free. Her magic, oozing of darkness and shadows, flared and lashed blindly, and Huey cried out a _no_ and threw his arm out. Fire spread from his fingers and formed a barrier from Magica’s wild magic, protecting them from her blind rage.

“I had you!” Magica screamed. “I had you, in my hands! I will not let myself be defeated again!”

“Then fight me!” Uncle Scrooge challenged. “See if you can win fair and square. Were I a betting man, I daresay you will not.”

Rage made Magica reckless, and she charged at Uncle Scrooge. It took him laughingly short time to defeat her, and Webby snatched her staff and broke the deep purple jewel adorning it. The effect was instantaneous; her shadow blasted to all direction, and Webby yelped in surprise, holding her hands in front of her to shield herself from the blast. A glowing, translucent blue shield materialized as Lena flared bright enough to seem solid despite being a shadow. Huey’s shield of flames hadn’t dissipated, and it was enough to protect them from the lashing shadows.

When the shadows dispersed, so did Lena, but she managed to slip in a smile for Webby as she melted into _Webby’s_ shadow. The girl stared blankly at her own shadow, then at her bracelet, and a glint of steel made itself known her eyes. Then it was gone as Magica declared her promise for revenge and ran away in a poof of smoke – parlor tricks this time instead of deadly magic.

He decided that would be more easily dealt with later. He redirected his attention to Louie, whose eyes were still glowing softly gold, whose whole being still looked like he was speckled with emeralds. He shook the boy carefully, calling him softly.

“We’re okay now,” he assured. “Do you hear me, Louie?”

Louie blinked at him a few times as the golden glow dissipated. “Uncle Donald, your voice is back to being scratchy.”

He smiled. “I know. I think being around magic just isn’t good for tech pieces. How do you feel, Louie?”

“I’m so tired,” Louie admitted. He looked around sluggishly. “Where’s my khopesh?”

Dewey searched with his eyes for a bit and found it almost immediately. He jogged to get it and gave it to Louie. “Here.”

Louie held it like a lifeline and huffed a laugh. “Of all things, I sure didn’t think I’d be able to control _gold_ , but I’m not complaining.”

“Yeah, and to think we had Magica of all people telling us about it,” Webby muttered.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Uncle Scrooge cut in. “What matters is that we are here now, and we are safe. Let’s go home and rest. We’ll need it after all that. I certainly do.”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Louie agreed. “I feel like I could sleep for a week straight, maybe more.”

He fell asleep against his side on the car ride home despite Launchpad’s rough driving, and soon the other kids followed suit, so that just drove the point home even more.

* * *

Despite everything Magica had said, somehow no one realized his connection to sea. It baffled him at first, but then he remembered all the things that went down that day – shadows rising, Magica making herself a throne in the money bin, Uncle Scrooge captured and released, Louie exhausting himself from making a show with all the gold he controlled at once… and yeah, that checked out. He’d probably forget about a small remark some crazy magic lady said, too.

Uncle Scrooge took the kids’ abilities surprisingly well, and accommodated Webby’s sudden interest in magic without much complaining about how magic was cheating, somehow. With how Lena sometimes flitted in and out of view from her shadow, he could see why. Her usual drive and excitement over treasure hunting didn’t change anyhow; she still went after treasures and helped solve puzzles all the same, and her mastery over different languages were still as critically useful as ever. The triplets’ abilities had also proven useful, with Huey providing light and warmth, Dewey jumpstarting the plane when needed, and Louie feeling out where the treasures lay. And he…

Well, he helped in any way he could without actually telling anyone his abilities. He didn’t really hide it, not really. It was just that his was a lot less flashy compared to the kids’. The sea pushes and pulls all the same whether or not he was there. The sea was unpredictable and a sudden slap of wave wouldn’t make any difference. There was never really any reason to call upon the sea’s rage, not without risking washing away his family, so he never did. He never really hid it, so really, it wasn’t really his fault if no one connected the dots.

(That was what he told himself, anyway. Part of him wondered if that was just him trying to hold off telling people about it. The sea was special to him, it loved him just as he loved it, and part of him wanted that to stay private, to keep that precious connection to himself.)

That didn’t stop the stress. That didn’t stop the molting.

He worried, of course. Who wouldn’t, with family like his? He worried so much until the seizing in his heart became a constant, until sleep eluded him even with the help of calming tapes and aromatherapy, until he lost all feather and he looked more like a raw Thanksgiving turkey than a living, walking duck. When his family presented him the option to go on the cruise, he took it because he knew he’d die an untimely death with him pushing on like this.

And then he saw the Spear, and for the first time in such a long time, hope seized him like vice.

For the first time, what rushed in his veins and forced his feet to move wasn’t desperation for getting enough for next month’s supplies, or getting something for the kids’ lunch, or seizing terror at seeing something dangerous about to happen to the kids. For the first time, it was blind hope, screaming in his ears with an unbroken chant of _Della, Della, Della_ , and he didn’t even register how his muscles burn as he slipped into the ship.

He wasn’t at sea. His bad luck reared its head at the worst possible moment, and the rocket launched itself to space. The sea’s reach felt alarmed when it tried to grab him, to feel him, to keep him in place, but there was only so much a mass of water could do, and there was only so much he could do, not even understanding which button did what.

When he found himself surrounded by Moonlanders pointing their golden spears at him, he knew well that he was truly alone.

* * *

When he was a child first learning of how the moon pulled on the sea to create tides, he used to imagine a story about two people, missing each other, one stranded on sea and one on moon. Maybe they were best friends, or families, or lovers, and their longing for each other was so great the sea and the moon were moved.

He very much felt like that, now. Only, his family most likely didn’t know he was gone, and he was all that did the longing.

Well, he and the sea. He could feel his heart ache for the familiar push and pull, push and pull at the back of his mind that had disappeared the moment he left Earth’s atmosphere. But he could feel the sea longing for him, even so far away. He missed the sea nearly as much as he missed Della, and part of him was reminded of the tale of Princess Kaguya. He wondered if this is how she felt, longing for the moon while staying on Earth, so similar to how he longed for the sea while stranded on the moon.

He’d learned early on that struggling against the gold band across his beak and the golden cuffs around his wrists was useless, but that didn’t stop him from trying when the Moonlanders’ backs were turned. It still stung, how Lunaris didn’t understand his words and decided to steal his voice then and there.

His heart leapt to his throat with hope when Penumbra came and released him from his prison, but it sank back into the sewers when Lunaris caught them both. When Lunaris attacked, he was immediately on the defensive; he could fight, and he fought well, but Lunaris was far stronger and held so much more advantage over him. The moon’s gravity, especially, threw him off so much that fighting became even harder than it already was.

Then Lunaris threatened his family, and his blood boiled so much the gold band around his beak shattered as she flew into a rage and went for Lunaris. The second wind didn’t last long, but it was enough to give him the chance he needed to board the death trap Lunaris had made in hope of getting to Earth.

It was a risk, of course. But wasn’t everything, at this point?

* * *

Against all odds, the bad luck that had haunted him since birth relented, and Lady Fortune allowed him to land on Earth in one piece.

He crashed into an island. It was small and uninhabited, but it was land, and surrounded by the sea that lapped at his feet as if embracing and welcoming him back home it almost felt enough. Almost, because it still wasn’t; he had to go to his family to warn them of the danger.

If only the sea would aid him to get back.

It refused to let him go from the island. It threw fish and mollusks at him so he wouldn’t starve to death, and the coconuts in the island was sufficient to keep him hydrated, but that wasn’t what he wanted. He needed to get back home, to tell the others to prepare, and _the sea. Wouldn’t. Let him._

He kicked the water in a fit of anger. “Come on!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. “Isn’t it enough that I got thrown to moon and back? Let me get back home!” He jumped to the raft he’d made and started rowing, but just like before, the sea pushed him back to shore.

“ _Why_ won’t you let me go back home?” he pleaded, voice cracked with desperation. “My family needs me. _Please._ ”

The sea offered no answer. It only resumed its routine. Push and pull and push and pull and push him back to shore.

* * *

A plane crashed at the shore. It carried the kids and Della with it.

When her eyes fell on him, she dashed to him. There was so much to take in – the metal leg, the way she bounded like the wind itself supported her, like she was gliding instead of ripping through the air as she dashed, the way sunny-cloud-white hovered around her like puffs of smoke, the way her eyes blazed with something so suspiciously alike to concerned anger – but it was undoubtedly _her_ , and he would never be wrong about this. The twin planets were back in orbit and almost immediately they pulled on each other’s force of gravity until the eternal dance that was cut short resumed again.

They fought almost immediately after they set eyes upon each other – typical – but the overlaying deception of anger melted immediately to reveal the longing underneath, and they exchanged teary-eyed hug that seemed to last forever. The moment was ruined when his sculpted melon companion made appearance, but hey, he’d been alone for a long time. He had to make do. There was only so much communicating the ocean could do.

Fethry and Gladstone came riding Mitzy, and all of them left the island to catch up with dear old Scrooge. The sea was rough, but Mitzy’s course was true. There was a spike in his mind, like the sea was adamant to keep him in the island with no way out. There was also an underlying of fear he couldn’t understand.

He was _Scrooge McDuck’s nephew_ , dammit. Safety was never a sure thing. The only thing guaranteed to be around was adventure, and that was about it. Weird amulets, interdimensional beings hungry for power, witches hell-bent on revenge, and a plethora of weirdness followed him as easily as it did anyone in his family. To be honest, Della getting to the moon and getting back with a metal leg was probably the least weird thing to ever happen in the long history of Duck-McDuck family.

(Okay, scratch that, that was plenty weird. Was it the weirdest, though?

Considering Scrooge has been frozen in ice for literal years and survived and got stuck in some weird timeless dimension… yeah, it wasn’t the weirdest by a long shot.)

* * *

Okay, he _did_ say there was a lot of weird stuff happening to the Duck-McDuck family, but sharks wearing parkas were plenty bizarre on their own right. Glomgold may not have the sharpest mind, but even he had to admit the man’s ingenuity was genuinely brilliant.

Or maybe it was just him being his usual oddly smart dumbass self. He couldn’t decide.

Lunaris was a strong opponent, that was for sure, but even he didn’t have magic at his side. Surely, against Gladstone’s supernatural good luck, Fethry’s connection with animals, Della’s affinity with the wind and sky, Huey’s fire, Dewey’s lightning, and Louie’s ability to mold gold into his will, he’d have no chance of winning. His ship was made of gold, for God’s sake. All Louie had to do was crumple it up like oily wrapping paper about to be tossed to the trash can, and that was it.

That’s what he thought, at least. Then he saw the blue alien prick holding Scrooge hostage, and he knew instantly they were at a disadvantage. Damn these villains and their ideas to take people’s loved ones hostage.

Scrooge smiled at them all the same, greeting, “Hello, kids.”

“Hi, Uncle Scrooge,” said ‘kids’ – Scrooge’s collection of relatives he practically adopted both young and old – chorused at him. He didn’t know for sure, but he thought he heard an undercurrent of anger in their combined voices. He knew his had it.

Lunaris was clearly in shock when seeing a giant krill towering above him, but to his credit he regained his composure quickly.

“Lunaris,” Della seethed, and he could almost feel her anger as if it was his. “Let go of my uncle.”

“And lose any potential advantage I might have?” Lunaris shot back as he tightened his grip on Scrooge’s collar. “I don’t think so.”

Della growled. “What is wrong with you?” she demanded. “You helped me when I was in the moon. I thought we were friends! And then you turn around and do _this_?”

“ _Friends_?” Lunaris repeated with a bark of laughter. “Do you even hear yourself? Are you so foolish that you don’t even realize people can _lie_?” He levelled a cold gaze at her. “We are not _friends_ ,” he spat. “You are but a lowly Earthling. I am General Lunaris of the Moon. For you to even consider the _possibility_ of us being friends is an insult to my name.”

Della recoiled though slapped and let out a snarl. Wind picked up around her and made her hair dance as white plumes materialized around her, thin but undoubtedly present. She narrowed her eyes at the Moonlander. “You lied to me. All this time, all you wanted to do was just to get here.”

“Oh, so you finally realized after all,” Lunaris said with a mocking smile. “I honestly thought it would take you longer to understand.”

Della took a deep breath, but the anger in her eyes blazed brighter. “I had high opinions about you,” she said. “You helped me in the Moon. Was that all a lie? All of it?”

Lunaris didn’t even hesitate. “All of it.”

A sudden gust of strong wind blasted him in the face, making him flinch back while his cape was blown. He squinted at Della but made no move otherwise.

“I will give you to a count of three,” Della began, “and if by then you have not released my uncle, I _will_ make you sorry for being _born_.” She narrowed her eyes at Lunaris. “One.”

“Do you honestly think that meager threat is enough to scare me?” Lunaris asked.

“Two!”

“I do not care for your countings, Della Duck.”

“Three!” Della paused, eyeing Lunaris closely. When he made no move to release Scrooge, she rushed ahead and jumped off Mitzy’s head. The wind carried her and she glided effortlessly like a feather riding on a breeze, seemingly weightless. Then she shot like an arrow to Lunaris, leaving a trail of white while her metal leg aimed at his head as she spun a kick. Lunaris dropped Scrooge to block her kick.

It triggered a wave of motions among the family. Mitzy lowered her head so the remaining ducks on top of her head could get down, and the kids immediately jumped off. A heat haze had already blurred the air around Huey, and sparks of lightning jumped off the tips of Dewey’s fingers. Louie kept his center of gravity low as he took his khopesh from his back – he never left home without it anymore, which was more than a little hard to explain to other people – as he ran straight for the ship. Webby brandished her grappling hook and took a shot, shooting ahead to Scrooge’s side.

Huey and Dewey went for Lunaris, flames blanketing Huey’s hands and lightning following Dewey’s wake, and it clearly surprised Lunaris. That didn’t stop him long, however, as he managed to block Della’s kick still.

“Kids, I’ll handle this,” Della told the boys. “Go help Louie deal with the spaceship so he can’t get back to outer space!”

“Are you sure?” Huey asked.

“We can take him together!” Dewey protested.

“Yes! Go wreck the ship!” Della insisted, and the boys complied.

He didn’t spend more time dawdling. He slid off Mitzy’s head, landed on his feet, tripped, and fell on his face. He grumbled inwardly at Gladstone’s impeccable landing as he got up and ran ahead. He passed Della and Lunaris and joined the kids – Della could handle the Moonlander, and the kids probably had already made a plan of sorts. They were smart, they’d know to make plans.

Webby was helping Scrooge up, and the old duck immediately straightened and twirled his cane, rocked on his heels, and joined Della’s attempt to bring Lunaris down. Seeing the situation well taken care of, he turned to check on the kids and found himself grinning.

Louie had put his hands on the ship’s outer wall, glowing gold and glimmering emerald. The metal was slowly crumpling in his hands as he tried to pull it down. A few ways off of him, Huey was doing a similar thing, only his hands were white-hot and he was trying to melt the gold away. He peeked into the ship’s interior and had to stop himself from laughing out loud – Webby, with her technical know-how, was trying to damage the ship’s system as much as possible while Dewey pressed random buttons while frying each of them with electricity from his fingers. The whole board was starting to spark dangerously.

He dashed inside and looked around. “Okay, what can I do to damage the ship more?” he asked aloud to no one in particular.

“Well, I assume the rocket would need some sort of vacuum to make sure no one dies,” Webby answered. “So if you do something to compromise that, Lunaris will probably not be able to use this ship anymore.”

His sight zeroed in on the cockpit. More importantly, the glass wall of the cockpit that allowed the pilot to look out into the ether. He rolled his sleeves with purpose and stomped ahead while casting his gaze to find something he could use to break the glass. “Alright, thanks Webby. I’ll try to smash the window.” He caught Webby nodding an OK before he located a golden spear on the floor, and he took it and started jabbing its end to the glass panel.

It took a while, far longer than he’d like it to, but the panel finally started to gain spiderwebs of cracks. Just as he prepared himself for another vicious jab, he caught sight of another, smaller ship careening into the sea just by the dock, and saw Penumbra jumping off the pod before it nosedived into the ice, creating a hole as it sank to the frigid waters. He jabbed the spear in and the glass gave out, then he turned and ran out of the ship, leaving the spear at the window.

He got out just in time to see Penumbra throwing a punch at Lunaris, joining Della’s assault. She threw Della a quick smile and greeted, “Hi, roomie.”

“Penny!” Della squealed in delight. “You came here!”

“I wanted to warn you, but I suppose I’m late,” Penumbra mused. She turned back to Lunaris. “But I think we can save this conversation for another time.”

Lunaris threw her a dirty look. “First you helped a prisoner escape, and now you’re defying orders to fight the Earthlings. I never thought you of all people would turn your back to the Moon.”

“This is wrong and you know it,” Penumbra shot back. “If you want to invade Earth, then fine. But I can’t let you push our fellow Moonlanders into this. Earthlings have us outnumbered by the thousands, and if you keep doing this sooner or later they’ll meet their doom.”

“The Moon will not fall!” Lunaris snapped. “ _I_ will not fall!”

“Perhaps not you,” Penumbra answered solemnly, “but as much as it pains me to say this, other Moonlanders will, if you keep going like this.” She straightened and lowered her spear. “Think about it, Sir. It would be so much better for both our sides to sign a peace treaty. There will be no casualty, there will be no more fear, our civilization can thrive and we can help these backwater Earthlings grow. It doesn’t have to be a war. We can advance together.”

“How naïve of you to think the Earthlings will not desert you,” Lunaris said instead. “War is the only path we can take.”

With an exhale that sounded like she had accepted the burden of carrying the weight of the world upon her shoulders, Penumbra lifted her spear again. “Then stopping you is the only path I can take, Lunaris.”

Lunaris snorted. “Traitor.” He took a step back and assumed a fighting stance, then paused as a shadow covered him. He looked up to see Mitzy’s massive legs coming for him, and he jumped back, watching in silent fascination as the wooden panels of the dock was smashed to smithereens. He landed lightly on his feet.

Others weren’t as lucky. He fell into his face again, and he could see Huey and Louie losing their balance and falling to the ice. Penumbra and Della were luckier, with Penumbra being much more fit and Della easily floating to avoid falling. He looked around, trying to find the rest of his family – Dewey and Webby were at the door of the ship, gripping the wall to keep themselves upright, and Gladstone, Fethry, and Scrooge had found themselves atop Mitzy’s head, with Scrooge directing Fethry what to tell Mitzy to do.

Mitzy moved again, aiming for Lunaris and missing by a hair’s breadth when Lunaris jumped away again. The dock was basically ruined at that point, floating on the water that peeked from cracked ice that Mitzy created.

He found himself growling from frustration and yelled, “Be careful up there! You’re destroying the docks!”

“Mitzy’s too big to be careful, you’ll have to dodge! Sorry!” Fethry yelled back.

“Oh, for the love of – “ he dodged a falling wooden debris with a squawk and landed on hard ice. He mumbled a cuss or two and dashed ahead to join Della and Penumbra in their attempt to beat up Lunaris, but skidded to a halt and fell on his butt when he saw that Lunaris had grabbed Louie by the collar and was holding him up. His other hand held a golden dagger against Louie’s neck. Louie’s own khopesh had fallen, too far away for the boy to grab.

“Stand back or I will stab him,” Lunaris threatened.

“This is rich coming from the guy who yelled _I will not fall!_ ” Louie mocked.

Lunaris frowned. “I have you at bladepoint. Don’t you realize what position you’re in?”

“Oh, sure, go ahead, get the guy who seems like he can’t defend himself and take him as hostage, why don’t you?” Louie grumbled. “If you’re so high and mighty I would’ve thought you’d think or a nobler plan.”

Lunaris’ frown deepened into a scowl. “I hope you realize I am perfectly capable of slitting your throat right now, if I so choose.”

This time, it was Huey who answered. “No you won’t,” he said, matter-of-fact, tone dry enough to rival a desert.

“You see, about that,” Louie spoke up again, “I’m sure you’ve seen my brother conjure fire and my other brother conjure electricity. You’ve seen my mom fly, too. Haven’t you considered I might have something up my sleeve, too?” With that, he lifted a hand and jabbed up, glimmering gold all over, and the fallen khopesh lifted up on its own and slashed through the air to Lunaris.

The Moonlander moved to block the attack with his dagger, and Louie took advantage of the distraction by biting Lunaris’ hand so he’d be released. As Lunaris did in surprise, Louie shimmered brighter and made a pulling gesture. The dagger in Lunaris’ hand was ripped away and clanged to the ice.

“You filthy Earthling!” Lunaris spat. He slapped Louie backhanded, hard enough to send him reeling and falling to ice and landing on his face. He grazed his cheek on a rough patch and came out with red welts.

Lunaris wasn’t done. He marched with purpose, eyes locked at Louie. The boy in question called the golden dagger for help, shimmering gold with brilliant emerald in his eyes. The dagger shot to Lunaris, but he simply slapped it away. He lifted his hand.

He saw red.

He could hear Della yelling at Lunaris to stop, but it didn’t register in his mind. All he could see was Louie and his wound and Lunaris still trying to hurt him. Rage filled him to the brim, and his vision went blue, blue, deep ocean blue, with specks of seafoam white glittering like stars. Ice around him cracked and burst and seawater shot up like geysers, creating pillars that twisted together into one. They swirled up, up, up to the sky and dived down, slamming into Lunaris and pinning him down under a torrent of water.

“Stop hurting my family!” he yelled at the Moonlander. His voice sounded deeper to his ears, reverberating in a way that had never happened to him before. Lunaris didn’t answer, but it wasn’t surprising; he was, after all, more or less drowned within a pillar of his making. He could feel Lunaris choking for breath and decided to have mercy, letting the surging sea in his veins recede into familiar push and pull, push and pull that soothed his rage like a balm. The deep ocean blue faded from his vision.

He looked up to see Lunaris sprawled on wet ice, coughing for air while Penumbra cuffed him. relief washed over him when he realized that with Lunaris defeated his family was safe.

There was a creak and crack, and Della screamed “ _Look out!_ ” to someone, and a gust of wind slapped him by his side and blew him away, though not by much. He looked up to see the towering golden ship tipping and beginning to fall at the cluster of Duck-McDuck family (plus honorary members of the family and two aliens), the ice under it cracked and giving way after the stunt the family had pulled.

Louie blazed gold and emerald green at once as he threw out his hands and willed the ship to maintain its position, but gravity was a cruel mistress that refused to bargain with anyone. The ship barely even slowed its descent to sea.

Dewey and Webby ran out of the ship and snagged Louie by the elbow on each side, dragging him away from danger. The gold-and-emerald-green faded almost immediately from Louie, and the ship creaked loudly as it fell. The three escaped by a hair’s breadth, and he exhaled a breath he wasn’t even aware he’d been holding. The golden ship sank into the deep and the ice slowly settled while the ducks scrambled away from the hole and cracks to avoid tipping any ice that might lead them to falling into the sea.

When the gurgling of the ship was gone, Della rounded on him. “You can control water?”

“You can _fly_ ,” he protested.

“You never told me you can control water!”

“It never came up! And I can only do the sea! What am I supposed to say, anyway? Hi, Dell, remember how I always loved to be by the sea since we were little? That’s cause I can make some waterworks a little, no biggie!”

“That would have been better than radio silence!”

Glomgold broke the budding argument with a loud, confused, “What in the _world_ just happened?”

Scrooge let out a laugh at that. “Oh, nothing serious,” he said, “just my long lost niece and nephew having a good old fashioned banter. Nothing to see here.”

“Wha – no! What was all that light show and fire and thunder and water? Your niece flew! And if your nephew hurt my sharkas, I swear to every piece of gold I earned and swindled – “

That made _him_ laugh. He forgot, sometimes, that the hijinks the Duck-McDuck family got into were so far beyond the average person’s normality range that it was bordering on being absurd. Then again, who would believe that basically everyone in the family was someone anyone else would consider unnatural?

* * *

He couldn’t remember how, exactly, but this became his new normal.

They would go treasure hunting together, Scrooge, himself, Della, and the kids – Lena accompanied them sometimes, now that she was out of Webby’s shadow, and it surprised him enough that the kids took turns regaling him with the tale of how Lena came out of the shadow realm and the dream world fiasco that followed. He’d have to meet Violet sometime, she sounded like the steady anchor his kids seemed to need.

Or she’d end up just driving them off their hinges and all kids would just end up in more trouble. He hadn’t decided. He wasn’t sure if he wanted the worst case scenario to happen either, but at least he knew the kids were capable of handling themselves.

Penumbra came with them a lot, too, under the guise of learning the culture of the Earth. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that the Duck-McDuck clan was possibly the worst people she could learn Earth culture from, but she was a Moonlander. It wasn’t like anyone would treat her normally, especially given how other Moonlanders called her Captain and treated her as the de facto leader after Lunaris’ fall. Though, honestly, he suspected she cared less about learning culture and more about getting a vacation. She looked like she needed it desperately.

By the third week of adventuring, they’d found their footing of their roles. They flitted around each other seamlessly, with Scrooge trusting Launchpad to get them to their destination safely, Della to help ease the wind and weather, and him to coax the sea to allow safe passage. Fortunately for him, they went to the sea a lot. Unfortunately for him, when they went to lakes or rivers instead of the ocean, Scrooge still expected him to be able to ensure safe passage.

“I already told you, I don’t do _water_. You can expect me to help when we’re at _sea_ ,” he insisted when they braved a particularly stormy lake. It wasn’t much of a surprise considering there was a large lake monster currently wreaking havoc within the ship’s radius.

“They’re both bodies of water! And all water end up in the sea eventually!” Scrooge protested.

“Well the water’s not in the sea yet!” he said with a scowl.

Scrooge growled and turned away, glaring at the lake monster and twirling his cane in his hand, looking murderous and ready to join Della, who was fighting the monster with wind as her aid, plumes of white puffing around her like a cloud. “I have to do everything by myself around here,” Scrooge grumbled. “Not the sea, he says. It’s all water. You’ll end up wet anyway.”

“The lake doesn’t have as much salt as the sea, for one thing,” he sniped.

“Oh, should I dump salt in all rivers and lakes so you can be useful for once, then?” Scrooge asked, throwing a glare at him.

“Hey, I help whenever we’re at the sea,” he said. “If you want to constantly have me help you that way, do more expeditions at sea.”

“Do more expedition at sea, he says,” Scrooge grumbled as he ditched the cane for a harpoon gun and set it on his shoulder, taking aim. “How many treasures does he think is in the ocean?”

“Tons, Uncle Scrooge,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, I agree! I felt for some treasure the last time we took sail at sea!” Louie piped up from the safety of the wheelhouse.

“Get inside, Louie!” he and Scrooge yelled at the same time.

“Instead of getting outside, grab a map and point out some parts of the ocean where you felt the treasure,” Scrooge added. Then he jabbed a finger at him. “And you! Make use of all those boating lessons I paid for you and steer us to safety!”

Well, _that_ , he could do. He threw a quick salute and dashed to the wheelhouse to join the kids and to take control of the wheel. He may not be at sea, but the lake was forgiving enough to let him lead his family to safety.

The lake monster screeched loudly, the sound overlapping with Scrooge’s taunts and Della’s self-censored curses. He couldn’t help the grin that overtook his face as he spun the wheel around and barked at the kids to hang on to something.

Ah, yes. This was definitely normal.

**Author's Note:**

> the idea of donald having sea-related magic is so intriguing to me tbh, so i ended up writing this. also, this was first written like... months ago. like probably a little after s2 finale? i only needed to finish the fic by adding a few more paragraphs and check ship parts, then i forgot to do either of that, and the whole thing ended up being forgotten for months lol. better to post this now before i forgot again...
> 
> when i developed this story, i was actually gunning for a multichapter story focusing on louie, since what actually made me think about magic!au ducktales is the fact that louie's khopesh came back to him in s1 finale after it was thrown to the sea. like, what if he calls to the gold and it comes to him and that's why it came back? but when i tried to expand the idea i ended up focusing on donald, so i just went "eh, aight" and made a story about him instead.
> 
> scrooge is technically a gold-touched like louie, but his power manifests passively and allows him to collect and keep treasures and riches instead of to feel and control gold. gladstone is fortune-favored; technically, aside from sea-called donald is also luck-scorned since his luck is basically the opposite of gladstone's. it's like the universe is trying to right itself. to every fortune-favored, there is a luck-scorned to balance the scales. fethry's connection with his krills gave me an idea to make him very in tune with animals, and his power is called beast-whispered.
> 
> (also, when donald calls on the sea's power he glows blue and his eyes turn blue with white specks like rising wave. it's both creepy and cool at the same time.)
> 
> anyway, thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
